


First [The Worst]

by SinnamonSpider



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pining, Sibling Incest, Teen Angst, Tumblr Prompt, Underage Kissing, Wincest Writing Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 02:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16801579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinnamonSpider/pseuds/SinnamonSpider
Summary: Their worst kiss was also their first kiss.





	First [The Worst]

**Author's Note:**

> My response to the November Wincest Writing Challenge on Tumblr. Prompt was best vs worst: mine was kiss.
> 
> This is late, but I moved to a new continent 12 days ago so I think I'm entitled. 
> 
> Standard disclaimers apply. Feedback will warm me up in my new flat.

Their worst kiss is also their first kiss.

It comes out of the blue and startles them both, for very different reasons. Sam is fourteen and struggling with hormones and emotions run wild; his hatred of their nomadic life and the way his father treats them both in stark contrast to his sunshine-bright love for Dean and how it’s starting to feel not quite right, not quite like the way brothers should feel.

It’s early morning, crisp and cool and Dean, who Sam just _knows_ is going to drop out any second now, gets up with him anyways, pours him the last of the Cinnamon Toast Crunch with a resigned sigh, hair still wet from his shower dripping down into his eyes and Sam’s just so overcome all of a sudden, so incandescent with his feelings that he can’t contain them any longer and when Dean turns back from the sink, Sam’s right there, grabbing the sides of Dean’s face and stretching up - not quite as far, not anymore - to mash their lips together, the spice of cinnamon still on his own, clashing with toothpaste from Dean.

It’s messy and not smooth, Dean’s front tooth knocking into Sam’s lip and the coppery taste of blood is added to the mixture of flavours. They’re frozen, weirdly, locked together for what feels like an eternity but is more likely just a few seconds, until Dean pushes him away, _hard_ , and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Jesus, Sam, what the _fuck?_ ”

Sam chokes; the stunned and furious look on Dean’s face is too much and he whirls, grabs his backpack, blurry through a haze of tears, and bangs out the door. He hears Dean call out, but he doesn’t look back.

At school, he worries the cut on his lip with his tongue all day, poking and prodding at the outward projection of his inner turmoil.

The bell rings, an eternity later, and he can’t stomach the idea of going home. He slinks through the woods behind the school instead, knowing that it’s stupid because they’re here so Dad can track a werewolf that’s been snacking on teenagers, but he figures he’d rather have his heart eaten by a monster than have it ripped out of his chest by going back to face his brother.

He skulks around as it gets dark, ignoring the incessant ring of his cell phone. Dean is probably out of his mind and Sam hates himself for it, but he can’t go back, he just can’t, not yet -

Hands grab him, yank him around, and this is it, this is the werewolf come to eat his heart while he’s still alive and he closes his eyes and doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly crushed against a warm, broad chest, his nose full of pine and leather and the faint hint of cigarettes Dean never lets him see him smoke.

“Sam. Sam, holy crap. Are you hurt?”

He opens his eyes as Dean pushes him back, not unkindly, not like before, to get him at arm’s length, to look him over and make sure he’s okay. Dean’s face is grey, two pink spots of exertion standing out starkly.

“I could kill you,” Dean goes on, words harsh but shaky voice belying them. “Sam, you can’t do that. You can’t disappear like that. You can’t, I - ”

Dean drops to his knees like a cut flower and Sam just stares, bewildered at the terror and relief mingling on his brother’s face, even as Dean reaches out and drags him close. On his knees, his head comes up to Sam’s chest, right over his heart, and he could swear Dean puts his ear there just to hear it beating, wildly.

“I - I’m sorry,” Sam stutters, and means it, because he could handle Dean mad, raging at him like Dad, but scared Dean is something Sam hates more than anything in the world and he hates himself for being the reason. “I couldn’t come home - not after - ”

He breaks off, can’t say it, can barely even bear to recall it, even though the taste of Dean’s mouth is seared into his mind like a brand.

Dean pulls away, not far, and he’s looking up at Sam with tears glinting in his big green eyes that Sam loves so much it nearly kills him. “Sammy, Jesus…”

“Dean…”

Then Dean’s hands are on him again, gripping his collar to pull him in and down and it’s such an odd thing, being taller than Dean, and the angle is weird and what the hell is Dean even doing and then their lips brush, delicate and soft and so tentative, so unsure, that Sam feels like he might drop dead right then and there.

Their best kiss is their second kiss - and every single one that comes after.


End file.
